


The Secretary, the Spider, and the Spy

by Griselda_Gimpel



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Justice Society of America (Comics), Suicide Squad (Comics), The Spectre - Fandom, World's Finest (Comics)
Genre: Depression, Double Agents, Gen, Implied/Referenced Genocide, Period-Typical Racism, Post-Crisis, Post-Crisis (DCU), Pre-New 52, Spy Fiction, self-care, stale beer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-06-27 14:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19792486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Griselda_Gimpel/pseuds/Griselda_Gimpel
Summary: Amanda Waller, Madam Secretary of the Department of Metahuman Affairs, sends Count Werner Vertigo undercover in the Injustice Society so that he can stop a dangerous arms dealer. Set during the Luthor Administration. Some background relationships, but not a shippy story. COMPLETE.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Journey with me back to the strange time that was the summer of the year 2001. Unemployment was low, the budget had a surplus, and the internet was going to save humanity. Cellphones were mainly used to place calls, the TSA didn't exist, George B-, excuse me, Lex Luthor had just been elected president. It was a different world, and it is the setting of this tale.

Count Werner Vertigo woke when something jabbed him in his ribs. He pushed the two-week old newspaper off of his face and stared blearily up at Amanda Waller from his place on the couch in his apartment living room. She jabbed him with her umbrella again. His apartment was located in Biloxi, Mississippi, and the city’s summers were known for rain.

“I’m conscious,” he mumbled.

“Then get up,” she snapped.

He stumbled to his feet. He looked down and realized that there was a piece of pizza stuck to the bathrobe he was wearing. To get to him, Waller had had to clear a path through the boxes that Vertigo had left strewn along the living room floor.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I’ve got a job for you,” she said. “And don’t take that tone with me.”

“Don’t need a job,” Vertigo muttered. He didn’t. He’d been paid well for his last job with the Suicide Squad, and a hundred thousand dollars went a long way if you didn’t live extravagantly.

“I didn’t ask if you needed a job,” Waller retorted. “I said that I have one for you. But first you need to do your laundry.”

Vertigo started to say something, but Waller’s glare and a shred of self-preservation stopped him. Instead, he gathered up his dirty laundry (sans his bathrobe, which also needed to be washed, but he’d need to shower before he put on anything clean, not that he had anything clean) and took them to the washer. He was relieved to see that there was laundry detergent; that meant that Waller wouldn’t make him go to the store. He supposed it came from not doing laundry; the laundry detergent didn’t get used up.

After he started the washer, Waller pointed wordlessly with her umbrella at the discarded pizza boxes. He stacked them neatly by the door outside of his apartment. The old newspapers went on the other side of the door in another stack. Waller made him tackle the dishes next, at which point it was time for him to put the clothes from the washer to the dryer. When he’d done that, she put his shaver in one hand and his shaving cream in his other and sent him to the bathroom.

“And don’t come out until your chin’s as smooth as a baby’s bottom, Your Highness.”

“Yes, Madam President,” he said. “No, wait. It’s Madam Secretary now, isn’t it?”

“That’s right,” Waller said. “Department of Metahuman Affairs. Now get shaving.”

When he returned from the bathroom, he found her holding a pair of scissors.

“What do you intend to do with those?” he asked.

“You need a haircut. Sit down.”

Vertigo sat on the floor, and Waller began trimming his unkempt hair. He tried not to squirm.

“Hold still,” she barked. “You’re as bad as my children were.”

By time she was finished, the clothes were done in the dryer. He didn’t wait for Waller to tell him; he folded and hung them up. Waller intervened to hold back one outfit, a pair of light green slacks and a darker green button-down with a leaf pattern on the trim, along with socks and underwear.

“Take a shower and then put those on,” she instructed.

Vertigo had to admit that a hot shower felt good, even in the summer heat of Biloxi. After he had gotten dressed, he ran a comb through his hair and brushed his teeth. Then he left the bathroom to see if Waller deemed him presentable. She did.

“Come along, Your Highness,” she said briskly.

There was a rental car in the guest parking. Waller took the driver’s side, and Vertigo sat in the passenger’s side. They drove in silence to a diner. Vertigo ordered the nightly special off the menu without looking to see what it was. When it arrived, he found that it was mashed potatoes that had come out of a box, green beans that had come out of a can, and steak that had been deep-fried. It was hardly gourmet cuisine, but Vertigo had to admit that it beat pizza.

“So what’s this all about?” he asked, as they ate their food.

“You’re going to join the Injustice Society,” Waller informed him.

“You are concerned about them?” Vertigo asked.

Waller snorted. “The capes can handle them. No, they’re just a means to an end. You ever hear of Blake Compton?”

Vertigo shook his head.

“Nasty piece of work,” Waller said. “Calls himself the Spider. Suspected in connection to a lot of things. Nothing solid. He’s a local here, and the Injustice Society is in town to buy some alien tech off of him.”

“What are his powers?”

“Being a waste to society,” Waller answered.

Vertigo raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” she clarified.

“Not your jurisdiction, then, Madam Secretary.”

“If it was, I wouldn’t be using you,” she replied. She handed him a business card. It read Vertigo Royal Consulting and contained an address and phone number.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Your business,” Waller said. “This is off the books, so you’ll get your pay from a variety of ‘client companies’ that have hired your services. The address is real, if you need an office for something.”

“Who are my clients?”

Waller waved her hand. “There’s a bunch of them. The proper records are at the office if you need them, but off-hand, there’s Howard’s Tree & Branch Removal, the Cute Cupcake, Happy Socks Laundry Services-”

“You’re laundering money through an actual laundry?” Vertigo asked.

“Not important,” Waller said. “Point is, you’ll get paid.”

“So what’s my in with the Injustice Society?” Vertigo asked.

Waller slid a com-link over to him. “Oracle will contact you with the details tomorrow evening. Once you’re in with the Injustice Society, they’ll let you handle the meeting with Compton.”

“How do you know that?”

“Remember Malachi Yandro?”

Vertigo thought hard. “No-o.”

“The Stinger?” Waller prompted.

“Oh! Him! That was ages ago. What’s he got to do with Compton?”

“Compton’s his cousin,” Waller explained. “You worked with the Stinger before, so you’ll have something to break the ice with Compton with. Then all you’ve got to do is buddy up to him until you get something we can nail him on.”

“I understand,” Vertigo said.

“One more thing,” Waller said. She handed him another business card. He picked it up.

“Hm?”

“Your new therapist,” Waller explained. “Your first appointment is for tomorrow after lunch. And it wasn’t easy finding someone to take you on a Sunday, so you’d better not be a no show, Count.”


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Count Vertigo didn’t feel like spending all day in his apartment, so he dug the phone book out of a drawer in his apartment kitchen and began looking for Catholic Churches in the area. It was the Sabbath, after all.

His grip on the phone book pages tightened as he discovered that there was a Vlatavan Catholic Church nearby. He quickly flipped to the next page. He wasn’t ready for their blame – or worse, their _need_. He picked a church at random and jotted down the address. Once outside, he took to the sky. He could fly at a decent clip, and it meant that he didn’t have to worry about red lights or speed traps. He dropped down in an alley a short distance from the church and walked the rest of the way. There was no need to call attention to himself.

Once inside, he took a seat near the back. The service, he discovered, was held in Spanish. That was fine. Between the Latin he’d learned as a boy and his time in Diabloverde, he could follow along well enough.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” he said during confession. “It has been some time since my last confession. I have been angry at an Angel of the Lord…”

After service, Vertigo grabbed lunch and then flew to his therapy appointment. His therapist’s name was Violet Miller. She shook his hand when he arrived and closed the door to her office.

“You ever been to therapy before?”

Vertigo nodded.

“Would you like to talk about Vlatava?” Miller asked. An image of his country burning from the Spectre’s fireball flashed behind Vertigo’s eyes. He shook his head.

“Not…yet,” he managed.

“It’s okay,” Miller said. “We can talk about something else. How was your day?”

“I went to church,” he said. “I hadn’t been in a while.”

“Was that a good experience?”

Vertigo considered. “I’ve been angry,” he said finally. “I’m trying to be repentant of my anger, but it’s hard.”

“What are you angry about?” Miller asked.

“Actually, can we talk about something else?” Vertigo asked.

“Of course,” Miller said. “I’m here to help you. What else is going on in your life?”

“I’m going to meet some new people tonight,” Vertigo said.

When his therapy session was over, Vertigo swung by the office Waller had set up for him. There was a box of business cards on his desk and a drawer full of files. He slipped some of the business cards in his pocket and skimmed the documents. There was also a flip cell phone there, and he pocked that. Then went back to his apartment for a shower and a change of clothes. This time, he put on his spandex and cape. When the sun started to go down, he turned on his com-link.

“You there, Oracle?” he asked.

“I’ve got you,” he heard her voice through the com-link. He smiled a little. It had been some time since he’d had Oracle’s voice buzzing in his ear, and it brought back fond memories.

“Hear you’re the scourge of the criminal underworld these days,” he said conversationally.

“If they believe I exist,” Oracle replied.

“So where am I going?”

“Casino on 90,” Oracle said.

“Which one?”

“Beach-side right before the Loop,” Oracle clarified. “The Injustice Society has been casing the joint. It looks like they’re going to hit it tonight. Black Canary’s going to be there to stop them, and you’re going to be there to stop her. Should endear you to the Injustice Society.”

“How much does Black Canary know?” he asked.

“Just to take the fall when you show up,” Oracle said. “Just so you know, she’s making me take her out to dinner for not asking questions.”

“Burger and fries?” Vertigo joked weakly as he took to the air and headed south.

“Lobster,” Oracle corrected him.

“So what’d the Wall give you for this mission?” Vertigo asked.

“Something shiny and electronic,” Oracle said. “And expensive and not easy to obtain.”

She briefed him on his mission until he reached the casino. There were several members of the Injustice Society and one super-hero in the form of Black Canary, and the Injustice Society was very much in need of saving. Vertigo swooped low and waited for Black Canary to see him.

Turning her head, she unleashed her canary cry on him. He winced from the pain, but Black Canary was playing along. She could have knocked him out of the sky if she’d wanted, but she was using a different frequency than the one that would have destroyed his balance disrupter. Bringing his finger up to his temple, he activated his balance disrupter. Black Canary wobbled and then began retching.

“I’m going to make my introduction,” Vertigo said. “Need to ditch the com-link in case they search me.”

“Have fun,” Oracle said.

Vertigo slipped the com-link out of his ear and chucked it. No one would ever find it in the dimming light. Then he dropped in altitude to where the Injustice Society was.

“Looked like you needed a hand,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mention it because it wasn't relevant to the story, but the desk at Vertigo's office totally has a drawer containing 3.5 inch floppy disks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I'm not a fan of cosmic retcons, I kept the Stinger's pre-Crisis backstory and interactions with Count Vertigo from the pages of World's Finest.

Count Vertigo followed the Injustice Society in the air, drifting upward a few times to make sure they weren’t being followed. Eventually, the Injustice Society arrived back at a motel, and Vertigo settled on the ground. By the light of the street lamp, he was able to see who was present. It wasn’t the entire Injustice Society. Oracle had given him a rundown of the most recent known members, and only Icicle, Golden Wasp, Tigress, and Geomancer were present.

“This is where you’re staying?” Vertigo asked, indicating the motel.

“All Johnny Sorrow would shell out for,” Geomancer muttered.

“Who are you?” Icicle asked.

“I recognize him,” Tigress injected. “He’s Duke Dizziness.”

“Count Vertigo,” Vertigo corrected. He gave a bow. “At your service. And a ‘thank you’ would be appreciated.” He nodded at the sack Golden Wasp was carrying. “Poker chips?”

“Better,” Golden Wasp said. He reached into the sack and tossed a fork to Vertigo. “We swiped the good silver.”

Vertigo frowned. He closed his eyes and felt the heft of the fork in his hand. He reopened his eyes and tossed the fork back to Golden Wasp. “That’s not argent,” Vertigo said.

“What?” Golden Wasp asked.

“You didn’t steal the fine silver,” Vertigo said. “You swiped the stainless steel.”

“How can you tell?” Tigress asked.

“Silver is heavier,” Vertigo said.

“Can we go inside?” Geomancer asked. “The mosquitos are eating me alive.”

“Fine,” Tigress said, “but I have questions for New Guy.” She jerked a thumb at Vertigo. He followed them to one of the rooms. There were two full size beds inside and a couch.

“Tigress actually has the room next door,” Geomancer explained. “Icicle drew the short straw, so he gets the couch.”

“And if you’re looking to bum the night, you’ve got the floor,” Tigress said pointedly. “In the men’s room,” she added, in case there was any confusion.

“I have my own arrangements for leisure time and rest,” Vertigo said.

“So what are you doing here?” Golden Wasp asked.

“I have the desire to obtain membership in your esteemed organization,” Vertigo said.

“Uh huh,” Tigress said. “I heard you were all buddy-buddy with the Wall.”

Vertigo shrugged. “She strapped a bomb to my arm. Can you tell me you would have done differently? Besides, she’s moved up in the world now. The Suicide Squad was disbanded.”

“Actually disbanded?” Tigress asked suspiciously.

“Probably not,” Vertigo admitted, “but if it hasn’t, I haven’t heard anything. I’ve been flying solo.”

“What you’ve been doing with your time?” Geomancer asked.

“Consulting,” Vertigo lied. The members of the Injustice Society looked at him blankly. “Money laundering,” he clarified. He pulled out some of his business cards and passed them around. “That has my cell phone number, if you need to contact me.”

“Why would you wash money?” Icicle asked. The other members of the Injustice Society gave him contemptuous looks, and he went silent.

“Not just anyone can join the Injustice Society,” Tigress said. “We’ve got standards.”

“I wouldn’t be interested in joining if you didn’t,” Vertigo assured her.

“What’s the biggest thing you’ve done?” Tigress asked.

“Stopped World War III,” Vertigo answered promptly.

“I didn’t hear anything about that,” Geomancer said dubiously.

“Of course you didn’t,” Vertigo replied. “You don’t hear about wars that get prevented.”

“Maybe something a bit more illegal?” Tigress suggested.

Vertigo decided not to argue. He was trying to make friends. He considered his rap sheet. If they didn’t like his work for peace in the Middle East, they wouldn’t be impressed by his involvement in the HUD Department down in Diabloverde. He considered mentioning his threat to nuke Moscow, but he was afraid that they’d ask ‘why’. Since the answer went back to Vlatava, Vertigo wasn’t confident he’d be able to both answer and maintain his composure.

He said finally, “the Stinger and I put Green Arrow and Black Canary in a death trap back in the day.”

“Eh,” Golden Wasp said.

“What?” Vertigo questioned. “You can’t tell me that wasn’t illegal.”

“Oh, sure,” Golden Wasp said, “but at the end of the day, who hasn’t put Green Arrow and Black Canary in a death trap?”

“Besides,” Tigress said. “They got out, right? You ever commit a successful crime?”

“I took a building hostage once,” Vertigo said quickly.

“Oh?” Icicle asked, looking to redeem himself. “How many people?”

“I didn’t say I took a building full of people hostage,” Vertigo corrected him. “I took the building itself hostage.”

There was silence in the motel room.

“What?” Geomancer asked finally.

“My demands were met,” Vertigo added hastily, before they questioned the events further.

“Why is it that you want to join the Injustice Society?” Golden Wasp asked.

Vertigo hadn’t been expecting that question. He couldn’t not answer without looking suspicious, so he opened his mouth and said the first thing that came to mind.

“The Spectre was a member of the Justice Society,” he said. No one said anything at first. Vertigo had spoken with more venom than he’d intended. He became aware of a pain in his palms and realized that he’d clenched his fists so hard that he’d driven his nails into his flesh. He forced his grip to relax. He unclenched his jaw, as well.

“Wait, isn’t he the spook who blew up your country?” Icicle asked finally. Vertigo didn’t trust himself to respond, but thankfully, he didn’t have to.

“Fine, you’re in,” Tigress said. “We’ll let Johnny Sorrow know. Now, our original plan was to give the silverware to the Spider, but seeing how it’s not silver, we need a different plan.”

“Who?” Vertigo asked.

“Who what?” Tigress said, but Vertigo could see by the expression on her face that he’d passed her test and allayed her immediate suspicions.

“Who’s the Spider? Or, I should say, which entity calling themselves by that alias are we speaking of? And why were we giving him the dining ware?”

“We heard he’s got some alien tech to sell,” Geomancer explained.

“His real name is Blake Compton,” Tigress added. “He goes by the Spider.”

“Blake Compton,” Vertigo repeated, pretending to think. “Isn’t that the Stinger’s cousin?” he asked after a moment.

Tigress saw Vertigo’s apparent line of thought. “You think the Stinger could make the introduction for us?” she asked.

Vertigo nodded. “It wouldn’t hurt for me to give him a call.”

“What about the money?” Golden Wasp asked. “Unless the Count’s got two grand lying around.”

“I do, actually,” Vertigo said. “Consulting pays well. I’d like to be reimbursed at a future date, but one can’t expect to be a member of an organization without paying dues, now can one?”

He left after that. When he returned to his apartment, there was a manila envelope on his front steps. He took it inside. The return address said it was from a chip manufacture, but when Vertigo opened it, he found that it contained a covert listening device. It didn’t transmit, however, but rather recorded to a cassette tape.

If anyone questioned the package, Vertigo could claim he’d ordered parts for his balance disruptor. And like the purloined letter, a package left in plain sight wasn’t suspicious. Still, it had been in the summer Mississippi sun for who knows how many hours. He put the whole ensemble in the freezer.

The phone on the wall by the kitchen rang. He answered it.

“How’d the meeting go?” Oracle asked him. “Don’t worry. The line’s secure.” Vertigo didn’t doubt it.

“Good,” Vertigo said. “I’m in, and I’m to set up the meeting with the Spider.”

“They’re not suspicious?”

“Still a little, I believe,” Vertigo said, “but if I’m careful, I should be fine. How’d the dinner go?”

“Black Canary said she felt so sick after what you did to her that we’re going to have to do it another night,” Oracle said.

“You’re welcome, then,” Vertigo said.

“Uh uh,” Oracle said. “I’m not off the hook yet. In fact, she’s now saying I owe her not only dinner but dessert, as well.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Well, I think I can manage,” Oracle said, and Vertigo could practically hear her smirk.

“I got the package,” Vertigo said. “For my meeting with the Spider?”

“You got it,” Oracle said.

After they’d both hung up, Vertigo dredged his memories for the Stinger’s phone number and dialed it. He didn’t reach the Stinger. He got the Stinger’s elderly mother instead. Happily, she hadn’t totally lost track of her wayward son, and she was able to give Vertigo an up to date number. The Stinger wasn’t home when Vertigo called, so Vertigo left a message on his answering machine.

Vertigo spent the next day waiting impatiently by the phone until the Stinger called his back. They reminisced about old times, and then the Stinger agreed to give his cousin a call. That was followed by another wait until the Stinger called back to give Vertigo the time, location, and details of the meeting.

“My esteemed thanks,” Vertigo said after he’d jotted down the information on a notepad. He bid his goodbyes and then hung up the phone. Now all he had to do was meet with the Spider and get him to say something incriminating on tape. 


	4. Chapter 4

The meetup was for Friday night at 9 P.M. The place was a bar called the Wrong Side of the Tracks. It had a railroad crossing sign as its emblem. Vertigo wore plainclothes to the meetup, with the wire carefully taped under his shirt and the associated cassette tape hidden beneath his coat. As had been discussed, he wore a Mississippi Sea Wolves hat so that the Spider would be able to recognize him. The bartender asked Vertigo if he wanted anything. Vertigo said he would just have a glass of water. The bartender gave him his order with a glare.

“You don’t drink?” a voice a behind Vertigo asked. He almost didn’t hear it over the noise in the bar. He looked behind him. A white man, late thirties or early forties, was standing there. He was decked out all in black (black pants, black muscle shirt, black long coat) and a pair of black sunglasses, which the man had not removed despite it being both nighttime and indoors. The sunglasses were clearly custom made. Each lens was made up of eight smaller lenses in a convex pattern.

“You must be the Spider,” Vertigo said.

“I am,” the Spider said. He took the seat at the bar next to Vertigo’s. “I asked you a question. You don’t drink?”

“I prefer to be in full possession of my facilities,” Vertigo said.

The Spider ordered his own drink and then nodded at Vertigo’s cap. “You a fan?”

“I don’t follow basketball,” Vertigo said.

The Spider nodded again, this time in agreement. “Baseball and football are the only real American sports.”

“I’ll drink to the health of that,” Vertigo said. In truth, his real loves were polo and cricket, but he needed to make friends. The background noise in the bar still concerned him, but he realized it did have one benefit; it meant that Vertigo’s accent was less perceivable.

“What’s your favorite thing about football?” the Spider asked, still playing Twenty Questions.

“The shape of the ball,” Vertigo answered.

“Huh?” the Spider asked.

“You asked,” Vertigo said. He decided to take the initiative before the Spider could quiz him anymore. “I hear you have some alien tech to sell?”

The Spider shook his head. “You’re out of luck. Sold it last week.”

“Damn,” Vertigo said. The news came on then. It showed the police arresting a Black man. It caught the Spider’s attention.

“You ever notice how anytime you hear about a crime being committed, it’s one of _those people_?”

“Hm?” Vertigo said non-committedly.

“This country would be better off if they all went back to Africa,” the Spider continued.

Vertigo saw where this was going. He decided to follow the thread. “How would you manage that?” he asked.

The Spider nodded. “I’ve thought about that. It’d have to be something big. Do something big, and people pack up and move, if you catch my drift.”

“I’m interested,” Vertigo said.

“Sorry,” the Spider said. “Just ‘cause you know my cousin doesn’t mean I’m going to kiss and tell.” He finished his drink in a final gulp and left the bar.

Vertigo counted to five and then followed him. He arrived in time to see the Spider leave on a motorcycle. Vertigo took to the air. The Spider was cautious and looked behind him a few times as he drove, but he didn’t look up. People seldom did. It wasn’t human nature, and the relatively new expression of the metagene wasn’t going to change that.

The Spider eventually came to an apartment complex, where he parked his bike. Vertigo made note of the address and then headed home. Once inside his own apartment, he dug a cassette player out of the closet and put the cassette in it. As he’d feared, it was garbage. The Spider had barely said anything that would merit an investigation from the police, and with what little he had said there’d been too much noise in the bar to get a clear recording. Vertigo disposed of the cassette tape and put away the covert recording device. In case someone searched his apartment, he stored the device deep inside an ancient pack of premade burgers that had been in the freezer since before he’d rented the place.

The next morning, Vertigo did something he hadn’t done in some time and went to the grocery store. While he was in aisle 6, he felt a whoosh of air. He turned to see that Golden Wasp had alighted beside him. Vertigo looked up and saw that’d he come in through the skylight in the ceiling. Luckily, it was early in the morning, and the store wasn’t busy.

“You were a pain to find,” Golden Wasp said. “I had to fly around town for an hour before I spotted you.”

“You could have called,” Vertigo said with a shrug.

“How’d it go?” Golden Wasp asked.

“A bust,” Vertigo said. “He’d already sold the tech. Sorry.”

“Ah hell,” Golden Wasp said. “Fine. I’ll let Johnny Sorrow know and have him arrange our plane tickets out of here.”

“When’s that going to be for?”

“Next weekend, probably,” Golden Wasp said. “Why?”

“I’ve got a business here,” Vertigo said, “and a lease.”

“Wait, really?”

“I should be able to get loose ends tied up by next weekend,” Vertigo assured him. He realized that he really would be moving. Waller had put too much effort into getting him established for it to only be about the Spider. Besides, it would be hard for him to back out without raising suspicion.

Golden Wasp flew off, exiting the way he came. Vertigo frowned. There weren’t any capes that patrolled the Biloxi area or even Mississippi in general. That meant that he had a week to find out what the Spider was planning and get the evidence to the appropriate authorities so that they could stop it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUD stands for Housing and Urban Development.

Sunday morning, Vertigo went to church again. The bench creaked, and Vertigo turned to see that Amanda Waller had sat down beside him.

“Thought you were Methodist,” he muttered.

“The Lord will forgive,” Waller shot back piously.

The service started then. They didn’t say anything else until it finished, but as the other attendees filed out, they lingered behind.

“How’d it go?” Waller asked.

“Poorly,” Vertigo said. “He’d already sold the tech, and I couldn’t get anything on tape. The Injustice Society leaves in a week, and the Spider doesn’t like me. You were right about the Spider’s number, however. He and William Heller would get along swimmingly.” He related to Waller all that had been said. She did not look deterred.

“I’ve got an idea,” she said.

“Pray tell.”

“I’m going to give Deadshot a call.”

“That would certainly provide a solution to our dilemma.”

Waller chuckled. “Not what I had in mind, actually. You ever play ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours’?” As the church finished emptying out, Waller explained what she wanted him to do.

After grabbing lunch, Vertigo went to his next therapy appointment.

“You look like you have a lot on your mind,” Miller said once Vertigo had sat down.

“Things could get hairy soon,” Vertigo said.

“Mrs. Waller didn’t give me all the details,” Miller said, “but she warned me that something like that might happen. Is there anything about it you’d like to talk about?”

Vertigo weighed his words before speaking. “This last week has been…good. Better than things have been.”

“Because you’ve made some new friends?” Miller asked.

“Because I’ve had something to do,” Vertigo admitted. “But there’s something I am attempting to accomplish that’s going to be difficult.”

“Why is it so important for you to accomplish this thing?” Miller asked.

“Because it’d make me feel less…less…”

“Useless?” Miller suggested.

“Helpless,” Vertigo said. “And because I don’t want it to happen again.”

\---

Vertigo wasn’t able to put Waller’s plan into action until Wednesday. Plane tickets take time to arrange, even for the Secretary of Metahuman Affairs. So Monday morning, Vertigo decided to go to the beach. As Vertigo lay in the sun on a towel, he reflected that no matter what one might say about the mosquitos and regular thunderstorms of Mississippi’s searing hot summers, the beaches of Biloxi were beautiful. After he left the beach, he grabbed lunch and then made a trip to RadioShack and purchases a camcorder. Then he picked up a couple of gallons of gasoline and a box of matches.

Come Wednesday morning, Vertigo arrived at the empty lot in the industrial district of Biloxi, as per Waller’s instructions. Waiting there were not only Deadshot, but Bronze Tiger and Vixen. They were all in plainclothes, as was Vertigo. There were also two Black men (twins, by the looks of it) and two Black women that Vertigo didn’t know.

“I don’t believe I’ve had to pleasure of making your acquaintance,” he said to the strangers.

“Martin Waller,” said one of the twins. “This is my brother Jesse, my girlfriend Tanya, and Jesse’s girlfriend Tasha.” Hands were shook. Vertigo noted the last name.

“The Secretary of Metahuman Affairs is…?”

“Our mama,” Jesse said. “She read us in.”

Tasha giggled. “It was all very clandestine. Is she always like that?”

“Yes,” Bronze Tiger said.

Vertigo nodded at Vixen and spoke to Bronze Tiger. “You and Vixen…?”

“Are here separately,” Vixen said curtly.

“We’ve professionals,” Bronze Tiger added.

“In that case, Vixen, care to grab dinner afterward?”

“No,” Vixen said flatly.

“Truck’s here,” Deadshot said, and they turned to see the delivery truck pull up. Bronze Tiger signed for the purchases. There were beams of wood, a length of rope, a door, two windows, blinds, hinges, a large canvas, an even larger tarp, nails, hammers, saws, floor tiles, a great deal of plywood, paint brushes, a five foot tall cross, and buckets of paint.

“Everyone ready?” Vertigo asked.

“If we make the frame, we can pull it up with the rope,” Deadshot explained.

“We can,” Bronze Tiger said, “but how do you know that?”

“Did a few barn raisings up in Amish country,” Deadshot said as they set to work. They laid out the beams on the ground to make the frame and then began nailing the pieces together.

“What were you doing in Amish country?” Bronze Tiger asked. “No, wait, let me guess. No evening news crime reports in Amish country?”

Deadshot flashed him a thumbs up sign.

“Martin and I volunteer for Habitat for Humanity,” Jesse said.

“It’s how we met them,” Tanya added.

“Where’d you all learn?” Jesse asked.

“I did a lot of odd jobs back when,” Bronze Tiger said. “Generally merc work, but there was some building construction involved.”

“I’m basically a rookie,” Vixen admitted, “but I’ve picked up a few things over the years. A girls gotta know how to hammer a nail, you know?”

“I was in the HUD Department,” Vertigo said. “Down in Diabloverde.”

“Still can’t believe a country made our mama president,” Martin commented.

“She did a good job,” Vertigo told him.

“And we got a peaceful transition of power after a year,” Bronze Tiger said.

Vertigo’s heart sank in his chest. He’d left Diabloverde before that, to return to Vlatava in hopes that his homeland, too, would have a glorious rebirth. It hadn’t. Everything had gone to Hell even before the Spectre’s destructive arrival.

After they got the first part of the frame built, they tied the rope to the top of it. Vixen summoned the strength of an elephant, and Vertigo took to the sky with the other end of the rope. With the others providing support, they lifted the first part of the frame up.

“Okay, that is too cool,” Tasha said after Vertigo landed.

“Yup,” Tanya agreed. “Wishing I could fly right about now.”

“It is nice,” Vertigo admitted. “Especially here, where the sky is not crowded.” 

After they had the frame together, they nailed plywood around the roof and three sides. The back, rather than being solid, simply had the canvas nailed and left hanging down. They added the door and windows and blinds, laid down the tiles, placed the cross on top, and were just about to start painting when it began to rain. Vixen summoned the flying power of an eagle, and between her and Vertigo, they got the waterproof tarp over the whole structure. Then they hunkered down inside until the rain stopped.

They finished painting in the late afternoon. Deadshot took off, his part done. Bronze Tiger, Vixen, Martin, Jesse, Tanya, and Tasha changed into church-going clothes. Vertigo put on his spandex and cape and got the camcorder ready.

“You want to start?” Bronze Tiger asked.

Vertigo eyed the mock church they had constructed critically. The light was starting to fail, but it would still be another hour or two before it was properly dark.

“It’s rather plain,” he said.

“It’s Protestant,” Bronze Tiger said.

“We need to shut the blinds,” Martin said. “Otherwise it’ll be obvious there’s no light inside.”

“It’s very new looking,” Tanya remarked.

“If we wait a little bit longer, it’ll be less noticeable,” Vixen suggested.

“I’ll grab us all dinner while we wait,” Jesse offered.

It wasn’t long before he returned with food, and the group sat on the tarp on the ground outside the building they had constructed and ate dinner together. Vertigo regarded their work fondly. It might be simple, but it was a solid building that they made, even if it only really had three walls.

It was almost a shame that he was going to have to burn it down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The television show Burn Notice was a big influence on this chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATF is short for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives.

Thursday morning, Icicle called. He and Vertigo arranged to meet at a coffee shop so that he could give Vertigo the plane tickets and fake identification papers. They were flying out early Saturday morning. Once they parted ways, Vertigo grabbed the camcorder and flew to the Spider’s apartment. He caught Spider just as he was leaving and dropped to the ground behind him.

“Spider,” Vertigo called in his best Newscaster's English.

The Spider spun around and stared at Vertigo in alarm. “What the Hell? Where’d you come from?”

Sometimes honesty really was the best policy.

“I followed you,” Vertigo said. “The other night.”

“Get bent,” the Spider said, and went to get on his motorcycle again.

“Wait,” Vertigo said. “There’s something I want to show you.” He held up the camcorder.

“This better be good,” the Spider muttered.

“It is,” Vertigo promised. He angled the camcorder so that the Spider could see the playback video and started it.

The video began by filming the mock church as the attendees filed in. The role of the attendees was played by Bronze Tiger, Vixen, Martin, Jesse, Tasha, and Tanya in their best clothing. As the video only showed them from the back, the two superheroes weren’t recognizable. Bronze Tiger was the last to enter, and he shut the door behind him.

The video moved forward, and the image spun around to show Vertigo’s grinning face. He’d wanted to ensure that the Spider believed it had really been him doing the filming. After that, Vertigo filmed the gasoline cans. He had to set the camcorder down at this point. He had angled it the best he could, but he was still partially out of frame as he dosed the front side of the mock church with gasoline, struck a match, and set the mock church aflame. The video continued as the mock church caught fire and began to burn. Then the screen went dark as Vertigo had stopped filming.

“I’m afraid they won’t be able to make it back to Africa,” Vertigo said. The insinuation in his statement was a lie. Bronze Tiger, Vixen, and all the rest had simply walked out of the mock church through the canvas that served as the back wall. Once Vertigo had finished filming, they’d put out the flames, taken the remains to the dump, and then gone out for dessert afterward.

The Spider was speechless as the video finished, but Vertigo could see his whole face was lit up in delight. “That was amazing!” he declared finally. “When was that? And where?”

“A few months ago,” Vertigo lied easily. “I went a couple of towns over for the Wednesday night service. I had to beat it pretty quick afterward, but it made the local news the next day. There were some casualties.”

“I am impressed, my good man,” the Spider said.

“So if you’re planning something,” Vertigo said, “I want in.”

The Spider nodded. “Meet me here tomorrow. Two in the afternoon.”

The Spider got on his bike and drove off. Once he was gone, Vertigo took to the sky and flew to his apartment for the last time. He had a message from Oracle on his answering machine. She’d left a number that he could reach her at, so he returned the call.

“How’d it go?” she asked.

“Perfect,” Vertigo said. “I’ve got a meeting with him tomorrow at two.”

“You got that cell phone Waller provided you?”

“Uh huh.”

“Call me tomorrow before the meeting. I’ll put myself on mute. That’ll let me listen in and track your location. Anything else you need?”

“Keep the skies clear,” Vertigo said.

“I probably won’t need to do anything with the weather you have down there, but you won’t have to worry about any choppers.”

After that, Vertigo took the burger box containing the covert listening device, threw it in the trash, and took the trash out to the dumpster. Back in his apartment, he left the camcorder on his dresser. He had a Go Bag stashed at a public locker in town. It contained two outfits, an extra set of spandex and cape, toiletries, and emergency rations. He’d rented the apartment pre-furnished, and there wasn’t much that he intended to take.

The next morning, he put on his spandex and cape. He grabbed his keys and wallet, the latter of which contained his new identification and the plane tickets. He placed the call to Oracle. Then he went to his meeting with the Spider. There he found not only one but two motorcycles.

“Didn’t think you’d want to ride bitch, so I rented this for you,” the Spider said. “Nice suit, by the way. My cousin said you liked to dress flashy.”

“Thank you,” Vertigo said.

“Follow me,” the Spider said. Vertigo did so until the Spider eventually stopped in front of a unit at a storage facility. “Take a look at this!” the Spider proclaimed, opening the storage unit with a flourish.

Vertigo gave a whistle of appreciation when he saw what was inside. “That’s a lot of guns!” he said approvingly – and loudly enough for Oracle to overhear. He stepped inside the storage unit. “And are those bombs that I spy?”

“Yup,” the Spider said proudly. “It wasn’t easy to get all this stuff, but with it, we can blow the darker parts of Mississippi to Kingdom Come.”

“Amazing,” Vertigo said. “What’s the plan?”

“Multiple bombs at multiple locations,” the Spider revealed. “Simultaneous explosions. Then you and me – and some other red blooded Americans, if you know anyone trustworthy – move in with the guns. They won’t know what hit them.”

“Exquisite,” Vertigo said. He opted not to point out that he was neither red blooded nor American. He wouldn’t have had a chance, anyway, because suddenly there was a wail of sirens. They police had pulled in quiet and now formed a semicircle in front of the storage unit.

“Damn pigs!” the Spider shouted.

“I’ll make a path,” Vertigo promised. “Make a run for it.”

“Wha-” the Spider started to ask, but Vertigo had already brought his finger up to his temple. The police outside stopped telling them to put their hands up and started throwing up instead. Vertigo made a dash for it. Once he was under open air, he took to the sky. There were already clouds rolling in for an afternoon thunderstorm, and Vertigo used them to provide cover. Once he was hidden from sight from ground view, he flew to where his Go Bag was stashed and retrieved it. Only when he was safely hidden among the clouds once more did he pull out his cell phone.

“Did they get him?” he asked Oracle.

“They got him,” Oracle said. “Nabbed him a block away. ATF’s been brought in. From the sounds of things, there were enough in that storage unit to put him away for a long time.”


	7. Chapter 7

Count Werner Vertigo flew to the motel where the Injustice Society was staying. He knocked on the door. Golden Wasp opened it.

“Why are you here?”

“Hit a snag of trouble,” Vertigo answered.

“Tell me what happened,” Golden Wasp demanded.

“The Spider and I were doing an extracurricular activity, and I’m afraid he’s been arrested.”

“The Spider’s been arrested? An ‘extracurricular activity’? What the Hell does that mean?”

“Hey, everyone! Vertigo’s on TV!” Geomancer shouted from inside the motel.

“Come inside before some sees you,” Golden Wasp snapped.

Vertigo followed him inside. He held up his Go Bag. “This is all I was able to grab afterward, I’m afraid. My apartment’s probably being searched at the moment.”

“You’re famous,” Geomancer said. He jerked his thumb at the news report. A clip of the footage off of Vertigo’s camcorder was showing on the television. The quality was especially bad, and Vertigo realized that the news people were filming the playback video live. Sure enough, the footage stopped abruptly as the police shoved the news people out of Vertigo’s apartment, after which point the reporter breathless recapped the latest developments.

“The Spider must have been followed,” Vertigo said. He gave a theatrical sigh. “So much fuss over a few guns and little arson.”

“Anyway, looks like you’re on the floor tonight,” Geomancer said.

“I’ve had worse,” Vertigo said.

“At least say you still have the stuff I gave you,” Icicle said.

“Of course,” Vertigo said. “That I had on my person. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to buy some new outfits after we’ve landed.”

“You and Tigress can go shopping together,” Icicle suggested.

“Yeah,” said Tigress from behind Vertigo, “not happening. What’s all the ruckus?”

“I’m afraid I no longer have no warrants out for my arrest,” Vertigo explained.

“It was going to happen eventually,” Tigress said.

They flew out the next morning, the entire Injustice Society in plainclothes for once. As was always the case, Vertigo set off the metal detector at the airport. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other members of the Injustice Society tense up, but Vertigo just smiled and explained that he had metal in his head from surgery. They frisked him and then sent him on his way.

He was stuck between Geomancer and Icicle for the plane trip. Once they arrived, a car took them to the Injustice Society headquarters. The next morning, as the Injustice Society was eating breakfast, Vertigo’s phone rang.

“Hello,” he answered it.

“Amy Beddoes here,” Oracle said, using the name she’d used during her Suicide Squad days.

“Oh, hey, Amy, how’s it going?”

“Who’s Amy?” Johnny Sorrow growled.

Vertigo covered the phone with his hand. “Business associate,” he explained. “Don’t worry, she doesn’t know anything. She just helps me with my consulting work.”

On the phone, Amy gave him an address in the city. “Your new office,” she said. “It’s set up to do teleconferencing, so you’ll be able to make your appointment this afternoon.”

“Thank you,” Vertigo said. “Have a good day.” He hung up the phone.

“Appointment?” Johnny Sorrow asked.

“My therapy session,” Vertigo said truthfully. “It’s this afternoon.”

“You’re in therapy?” Golden Wasp asked.

“Yes,” Vertigo said. “I am.” There was an uncomfortable silence. “Look,” Vertigo said finally. “My beloved homeland was destroyed in front of my very eyes. It’s been hard. Do you want me going to pieces when we’re throwing down with Green Lantern?”

“No,” Johnny Sorrow said. “That would be unfortunate. Have a good time at your therapy appointment.”

Vertigo headed out after lunch. He wasn’t terribly surprised to find Amanda Waller in his new office.

“Good afternoon,” he said.

“I want you to stay with the Injustice Society,” Waller said. “It’ll be useful to have a man on the inside.”

“I worked that out,” Vertigo said.

“You did? Oh, good. I’ll be off, then,” Waller said. She started to leave and then stopped. “Werner?”

“Hm?”

“You did good work,” Waller said.

She began to leave again, but Vertigo said, “Wait.”

“What is it?” Waller asked.

“Thank you, Mrs. Waller,” Vertigo said with heartfelt sincerity.

“You’re welcome,” Waller said, and this time she left for real.

Vertigo fiddled with the setup in his office. He adjusted the video camera to have him in focus, and when he turned on the screen, he found his therapist looking back at him.

“Good afternoon,” Miller said. “I saw you made the local news.”

“It was for business,” Vertigo explained. He didn’t doubt that the line was secure, but it never hurt to be too careful.

“How are adjusting to your new place?” Miller asked.

“It’s been busy,” Vertigo said, “but I feel better when there is something else to keep my person occupied.”

“I understand,” Miller said.

Vertigo took a deep breath. “I think I’m ready to talk about Vlatava.”

As Vertigo verbally sorted through his mess of feelings, he reflected that while the pain of Vlatava’s destruction would never leave him, there was still much he needed to do in the world. No one remembers the wars that were averted, the bombs that went unexploded, and the people who were not murdered. But sometimes the events that matter most are those that never happen.


End file.
